


Quo Vadis, Captain Pierce?

by ArcheaMajuar



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 17:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20549873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcheaMajuar/pseuds/ArcheaMajuar
Summary: “Pierce! Where do you think you’re going?!” Charles hissed, covering his head desperately as the sound of another gunshot cut the air. “Pierce!”“Wounded, Charles, we can’t leave them there,” snapped Pierce and pressed himself to the floor as another bullet was fired.





	Quo Vadis, Captain Pierce?

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Kam kráčíte, kpt. Pierci?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12725736) by [ArcheaMajuar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcheaMajuar/pseuds/ArcheaMajuar). 

> English is not my mother tongue as I'm from the Czech Republic. There are mistakes in the story, I know, but I just don't have anyone around to give me their feedback on the fic, grammar and so on (but if you'd like to let me know about the mistakes, please, do so in the comments or just send me an email (you find it on my profile page), it'd be much appreciated)
> 
> I'm really sorry for the errors, but I hope you'll enjoy this work anyway :)

His stomach turned upside down just the second he remembered the situation.

He would’ve never admitted he felt so sick because of the sniper, the obnoxiously luminous night, or the half a dozen of wounded soldiers. Well, these would’ve been sufficient reasons for recalling the night with an offbeat feeling in his gut, but such a state was caused by something else – he had realized a fact which his ego wasn’t quite willing to accept.

However… however, in the deepest depths of his aristocratic soul he found his reaction completely understandable.

How could he let it all happen, he mused over it while he was sitting in the mess tent, his hands cupping a mug of something making like it was coffee, but it had nothing in common with it whatsoever. Unfortunately, in this God forgotten hell hole they faced an atrocious shortage of anything with caffeine, so he, in the end, rather willingly opted for ruining his intestines with this parody of an enjoyable beverage.

It was his very first cup of coffee that day as in the morning he was quite busy, according to his not much recreational stay in the operational tent.

Klinger woke them up around three am, hollering the ambulance had just arrived. Hunnicatt was the first to be on the move as he only came back from his nighty stroll hell knows where, and the rest of them were a bit grumbling something under their breaths while getting up and snatching particular pieces of garment to put it atop their pyjamas.

And then they heard a gunshot. And then another one.

“Sniper!” yelled Charles and obediently lived by his instincts, telling him: _get down, fatty! _

He hit the ground right next his bed, hands coming up to his head.

Motionlessly, he noticed Pierce lied down as well, and then the both of them waited for more gunshots in case they were coming at all. The sniper apparently hadn’t had enough of fun yet and he commenced another series of shots, which forced the surgeons to face the dilemma whether to remain in the arguable safety of the Swamp, or whether to dash out to the ambulance in order to take care of patients who should’ve always been the top priority.

_But a surgeon hit by a bullet wouldn’t be of much help, would he? _concluded Charles his inner discussion and he stayed where he was. Shaking like a leaf, he hoped this all would be over soon, and it left him shocked with his mouth agape when he spotted Pierce, crawling towards the door.

“Pierce! Where do you think you’re going?!” Charles hissed, covering his head desperately as the sound of another gunshot cut the air. “Pierce!”

“Wounded, Charles, we can’t leave them there,” snapped Pierce and pressed himself to the floor as another bullet was fired. He was already mere inches from the door, and then he reached out for it, but as soon as he tried to open it, he flinched and added a curse aimed at the sniper.

“You’re insane!” the Major hissed again, even though he admired Pierce’s devotion to his mission on the inside. However, as he saw Pierce was adamant to leave the tent; Charles simply couldn’t allow him to execute such lunacy. “You won’t help them at all if you’re dead!”

Words were useless in this mess, Charles thoughts furiously and before Pierce braced himself to dash out, the Major grabbed him by his wrist and dragged him closer to himself. Mere seconds after that a bullet hit their feeble door again.

Charles gazed at Pierce, who was staring into the ground. His body was shivering, but eventually Charles’ eyes met Pierce’s, fear written in every feature of his face that was for a brief moment crossed by a hint of surprise, and… and Charles realized he had probably revealed more than he would’ve wanted.

He knew he was as scared as Pierce was, moreover, he was a bit angry with him, though he could imagine his expression suggested desperation as well. Yes, he was desperate because if Pierce really wished to run out of the Swamp he could easily wiggle out of his grip, abandoning him, but Pierce…

There was no need for words. In this very moment, everything was said by the looks in their eyes. It remained an unspoken truth that they cared about each other despite the fact the both of them had been reluctant to admit it. Until now.

Charles gritted his teeth while glaring lividly at the mug in front of him. It was eating him up from the inside that Pierce was such a do-gooder, such an altruist who always had had his heart in the right place. Whenever it was necessary, he was ready to gather all of his courage in spite of being frightened to death, and… and… Charles was hesitant in understanding that Pierce was also capable of so much compassion and so much love he could like even somebody as selfish as the blue-blood Major definitely was.

“May I join you, Charles?”

The Major winced at the abrupt question, but managed to recompose himself quickly enough to nod at the other surgeon in affirmation. However, once Pierce was seated, Charles put on his regular haughty smile, left the mug alone and stood up.

“Yes, Pierce, sit down please, and I’ll depart just to hide myself in a place where I would be accompanied by somebody of preferable standards - myself,” he proclaimed in a melodic voice and almost carried himself out of the mess tent.

As he was walking towards the Swamp, he pondered whether he felt so sick due to the coffee or due to his own behaviour. But he had no idea what else he was supposed to do as it was a long time ago he had given up on trying being nice to people because it had never been really… welcomed.

“Charles!”

A wave of unpleasant heat flooded his whole body the moment he heard that voice. At this point he, indeed, started to worry about his reaction as it was resembling…

“What can I do for you, Pierce?” he opted for asking a question instead of pursuing such thoughts further. The other surgeon shouted at him almost across the half of the camp, but Charles didn’t stop, so Pierce caught up with him only when Charles entered the Swamp.

“What can you do for me?! You might let me tell you something for starters!” barked the Captain at him, his eyes sparkling with anger and… and desperation?

_Yeah, just join the club…_

“What are you talking about?” Charles inquired calmly, even though he was far away from being stoic.

“I’m talking about that I haven’t gotten a chance to thank you. You’re so self-absorbed you probably didn’t notice you saved my life at night. Why is it such a problem for you only to be around me for a while and let me say thank you, Charles, because I might’ve been dead without you!”

Not a single word popped out of Charles’ mind as he was merely staring at the other man, taking in what had been thrown in his face, and trying to supress his affection for him. It seemed incredible that Pierce was enraged particularly by this as Charles hadn’t even pondered he had done it wrong…

“I know you care about me… I saw it,” softened Hawkeye for a second before his anger erupted again and he snapped at Charles: “But I guess it’s too unimaginable for you not to despise somebody like me.”

With that Pierce turned towards the door, however, as speechless as Charles was, he was still capable of moving and without a hint of hesitation, lead purely by an instinct he reached for the other man, grabbing him by his t-shirt. Gulping at the realization how slim Pierce was, easily in a snap of finger he dragged him back and rather close to his own chest.

His eyes darting from one blue depth to the other one, grasping the exasperation emanating from Pierce’s gaze, and he knew he was so upset because of more than just one thing as… as Pierce was like that. And Charles wanted to tell him that he was glad he had saved his life, that he would’ve done it anytime again, and that it was an utter nonsense for Pierce to think of himself as of somebody inferior, but… but he was taken aback, mesmerized even by the proximity of their bodies, of Pierce. Charles could focus only on that while in the back of his mind blossomed an idea… a dangerously tempting idea…

“If you want to punch me, Charles…” slipped through Pierce’s chapped lips so quietly as if he was genuinely scared, his breath shallow, eyes wide and agitated.

“If I had ever wanted to punch you,” no, he couldn’t believe he, indeed, found courage to say it aloud and to open his racing heart, yet he knew he was going to finish the sentence. “I would’ve already done it, Hawkeye.”

Only then he succeeded in coaxing his body to relax, to move, and most importantly to ease the grip on Hawkeye’s shirt. The awe in Pierce’s eyes, the sudden weakness of Charles’ knees, and the sting of vulnerability within his soul forced him out of the Swamp, but holding his chin up. Despite being deeply touched by the emotions he saw stirring in Pierce’s eyes, Charles Emerson Winchester III wouldn’t yield, and he was adamant about it.

However, he had no idea how to deal with such a situation, in which Hawkeye prevented him from leaving, grabbed him by his shoulder and hauled him back to the tent…

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I thought I won't translate anything else with Charles and Hawkeye, but apparently... :D I've just found myself in a weird state of mind and I'm not currently able to write new things, so... I settled at least for translating.


End file.
